


Brewed Awakening

by loumieredarling



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Puns, Barista Stiles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loumieredarling/pseuds/loumieredarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS:</p><p>1.     Hella fucking gay.<br/>2.     Desperately single.  </p><p>FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I RECOMMEND:<br/>You give me your number.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brewed Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://kitsunehales.tumblr.com/post/86885717041/brolininthetardis-this-is-a-coffeeshop-au) on Tumblr. Also dedicated to [Rena](http://hellasterek.tumblr.com) because she deserves it. Thanks to [Jade](http://sourwolves.tumblr.com)

Derek paused outside the coffee shop, glancing over the unfamiliar shop front. Granted, it's been a few years since he was last in town, but he's pretty certain that _Brewed Awakening_ hadn't occupied this spot on Beacon Hills' high street the last time he was here. Peering through the window, he could see the small café was filled with an eclectic range of furniture - spindly chairs, worn wooden tables and overstuffed armchairs with paisley covers that clashed horribly with the plaid throw pillows tossed carelessly about the place. The walls were a warm yellow colour, and the occasional poster was plastered in obscure places. Some of them were slightly torn, as if someone had tried to remove them, only to find they were firmly glued in place. Derek was certain he could see an Incredible Hulk one hidden away in a corner.

Hardly having anything better to do with his time besides fuel his horrendous caffeine addiction, he decided he may as well try it out; he doubted that even in 2014 he'd be able to find a Starbucks anywhere near his tiny home town. Just as he reached for the door, the sandwich board propped open beside it caught his eye. Written in white chalkboard pen it read:

 

TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS:   
1\.     Hella fucking gay.  
2\.     Desperately single.  

 

FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I RECOMMEND:  
You give me your number.

 

There was also a rather crude drawing of a man waving his arms in the air. Derek felt one of his eyebrows travel slowly up his forehead, before he swung the door open and stepped inside. 

He was greeted with the warm smell of cinnamon and home baking, intermingling with coffee beans and hot chocolate. There was a small queue by the front counter, and as Derek joined it he allowed his eyes to roam the walls, catching on a few signs written in the same handwriting as the board outside. One of them, a large, framed one hung above the counter read, “do not remove this picture from the wall and smash it on the floor. Ask your waiter about smash on floorable items.” Painted straight onto the wall behind one of the seating areas was written in block capital, “SO WHAT IF WE’VE GOT SOFAS - I REALLY DON’T SEE WHAT THE BIG DEAL IS. GET **OVER** IT.” On a tiny white plaque beside where Derek was stood was scrawled “LARRY PUCCINO MEMORIAL WALL. God was he boring.” Derek snorted at that one.

Behind the counter, thought, was a tall, lithe looking guy, moving about in a way that resembled a gazelle just learning to walk, narrowly avoiding knocking over cake stands and milk jugs as he gesticulated wildly along with the stream of words spilling out of his mouth as he presumably spoke to the person at the front of the line while he fixed their order. There was an almost wild glint in his eye, his mouth tilted up in a happy smile as he worked, still talking even while the roar of the milk steamer swallowed his words entirely. Derek was transfixed, half in amusement at how such a ridiculous human being could actually exist, and half in... something else.

He was so caught up in watching every exaggerated movement the man made that he didn't even notice the queuing moving forwards until he was looking straight into a pair of warm amber eyes and feeling his stomach drop into the floor.

"What can I get you, uh, sir?" the guy stammered, swallowing heavily, and Derek tried desperately to school his expression into something that wasn't what Laura referred to as his "murder face" (when really, it was just his neutral expression, and it didn't even look that angry. Laura was exaggerating.)

"I, uh," with horror, Derek realised he hadn't even bothered to check the blackboard behind the counter, and impending social embarrassment had managed to creep up on him like a particularly unpleasant storm cloud. Fuck. 

"Any time within the next century, you know," the barista smirked, gesturing with a grin to the queue behind him, causing Derek to glance back and realise that it was miraculously empty. The man's eyes seemed to shine with mirth at Derek's panic, wide, pink mouth hanging open in glee.

"Aah, you should have seen your face, dude. Priceless. You're not from ‘round here, are you? You seem like a big city guy, the kind who's used to grabbing his coffee on the go. Even when there's nowhere really to go, you don't wanna hold up everyone else, do you?"

Derek stared at him in mild shock, unused to being read so easily.

"Don't worry man, I'm not a psychic. My dad's the sheriff, so I learnt how to be good reading people from him."

"Stilinski," Derek said dumbly. The guy's smile widened.

"Yeah! I'm Stiles, Stiles Stilinski. Trust me, my real name's worse."

Somewhere in the back of his head, Derek realised he'd said a total of two words in this entire conversation, if it could be called that. He shook his head, trying to regain his focus and pull his eyes away from the smattering of moles over Stiles' pale skin and the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips every few sentences.

"I'll have a double espresso," he said finally, clearing his throat slightly, and Stiles' expression seemed to fall momentarily before the smile is back in place once more.

"Wow, boring order. You know what they say about people with boring coffee orders?" 

Derek looked at him, knowing the answer but not really knowing how exactly to respond. Stiles seemed to catch his own train of thought and blushed suddenly.

"Not that I'd assume that you're boring! I mean I don't even know you! You might be really into bitter and dark things because they feed your dark and broody soul! Not that I think you have a dark and broody soul because I don't know your soul and can you even know a soul? Anyway I shouldn't make assumptions about the kind of person you are based on your coffee order even though ew, double espresso I mean for me, firstly that would go so badly with my ADHD medication and secondly I don't really like bitter things you know? I mean I like some bitter things but-" Stiles cut himself off very suddenly, his eyes widening and face going a vibrant shade of magenta. "I mean- uh, that sounded wrong I mean it was tr- okay I'm really going to stop talking now and sort your coffee out." And with that he turned around rather suddenly and busied himself with one of the coffee machines, the tips of his ears still very pink, leaving Derek practically gaping, trying to figure out any of what Stiles had just said, and whether he really wanted to know.

He worked silently this time, hands skimming deftly over buttons and dials and very soon Derek was presented with a small to-go cup of espresso. Stiles didn't meet his eyes as he took Derek's wad of bills. Wondering where exactly everything had gone south, Derek picked up his coffee and left.

 

***

 

Derek had been pointedly ignoring _Brewed Awakening_ for the last week, and after a three day attempt to kick his caffeine habit by avoiding the only decent coffee place in town, he had resorted to grabbing one dollar cups of coffee from the diner near his new house, coffee which unfortunately both smelled and tasted like tar.

He was nearing the end of his run one morning, exactly a week after his last awkward encounter with the annoyingly attractive barista, eyeing the ominous looking black clouds overhead, when the fates obviously decided they'd had enough. With a rumble of thunder which sounded horribly like low, sadistic laughter, the clouds overhead burst and within seconds Derek was soaked to the bone.

Most of the shops along the high street were closed at this time in the morning, but Derek could see lights a little further down the road and he sprinted towards them, squinting against the rain.

The bell above the door tinkled as Derek threw it open, shaking the water out of his hair. He hadn't even taken account of what shop this was until he was halfway through saying "Sorry, got caught in the rain," and the smell of cinnamon and home baking hit him.

Fuck. 

Stiles, who'd been sat behind the counter looking bored, not expecting many customers before 8am, started to his feet.

"Oh, hey, it's- you." He paused, seeming to recognise Derek.

"Derek," he offered, and Stiles nodded slightly.

"So, uh, it's raining, huh?" Stiles said, somewhat awkwardly. Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Just a bit."

"Do you want me to get you something? To warm you up?" Stiles hesitated again, a blush creeping up his neck.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Do you know what you want, or should I just fix you a double espresso again?" There was a cheeky kind of grin working its way back into Stiles' expression, as if he knew that Derek probably didn't like double espresso all that much, and had just ordered it last time out of sheer panic.

Derek made up his mind.

"No, I know what I want," he said decisively, striding over to the counter and trying to ignore the way his shoes squelched with rain water. He grabbed a napkin and a pen left lying by the till and started scribbling something down, careful not to let his damp hair drip, but obscuring his writing from Stiles, who was peering at him curiously.

"Ooh a complex order? Go ahead, challenge me."

Derek finished writing and lifted his head. "I don't know if the recommendation from last week is still going, but I thought I'd try anyway." He slid the napkin across the counter. "I want you to call me."

Stiles jaw seemed to relocate to somewhere around the floor, and Derek took the opportunity to glance outside again. 

"Well, it looks like the rain's letting off a bit. Let me know if you can satisfy my order, Stiles." And with that he headed out the coffee shop, setting off at a run again in order to avoid any possible repercussions of his rash behaviour at seven in the morning.

Way to make an exit, Hale.

 

***

 

When he got home, he had two missed calls from an unknown number.

 

***

 

_Today your customer is:_

_1\. “Hella” fucking gay._

_2\. Desperately single._

_For my drink today I recommend:_

_You call me. Now._

_760-987-0041_

 

***

TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS:

1\. Hella fucking gay.

2\. Desperately in love with a guy who

could still possibly be a psychopath.

~~(At least the sex is good)~~

 

FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I RECOMMEND:

You ogle my super hot boyfriend.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The other signs mentioned are from an awesome café in my town and pictures can be found [here](http://kitsunehales.tumblr.com/post/87224895341/pictures-from-a-cafe-near-where-i-live-which-are).


End file.
